Crooked Endearment
by darkmarkedd
Summary: Ten years can really change a person - for good or for worse. If anyone knows this firsthand, it's Ginny Weasley. ϟD/G
1. chapter one

Hello, all! This story was formerly left abandoned under the title 'Blame it on the Winter Winds' but I'm currently bound and determined to finish it - promise this time. As always, everything is owned by J.K. Rowling.

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

* * *

He couldn't believe it had been a whole ten years since the final battle at Hogwarts; since the defeat of the darkest wizard the world had ever (and probably _would ever_) see. Draco slightly rotated in his seat to see the faces of the witches and wizards seated behind him, waiting for the ceremony to commence before he finally turned his grey eyes back to the outer walls of Hogwarts. It looked just as he had always remembered it, save for minor renovations that had to be made upon rebuilding the school after having it practically torn apart during the battle.

The Scottish, May air carried a cool breeze through the rolling countryside, but the sun bearing down upon his black cloak was nothing but a reminder that windy spring was soon to be replaced with sweltering summer. Who the hell decided to have the ceremony outdoors? He let out a loud sigh, causing a couple just beside him to turn their heads and stare at him, rather disapprovingly. Whether they recognized him as a Malfoy or not, he didn't bother himself with glaring back. Truthfully, he just wanted to get this shindig over with, only it seemed that one of the guest speakers were running late. He could only assume it was bloody Potter or one of his buffoons.

Merlin only knew how they liked to make an entrance...

Fighting yet another disgruntled sigh, he ran his hands through his hair, stopping the action only after realizing that he had a rather unsettling amount of gel holding his hair in place for the evening. Well, shit. He fisted the hand he held midair, dropping it back onto his lap and looking around the crowd once more. Where the hell was Astoria?

He didn't have to wonder for too long, however. Draco's gaze eventually wandered over to where Adrian Flint stood beside his wife, his girlfriend standing out amongst the group. Her pale skin still seemed rather unfazed by the bright afternoon sun, and her blond hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail atop her head, though her long locks cascaded down her back in waves. The green dress she had chose for the evening screamed nothing but high-class, and if it wasn't for the fact that Draco couldn't stand the bint, he would actually find her beauty to be quite daunting.

Only he couldn't really stand her, and her insides were anything but beautiful. _Supposedly _the two were perfect for each other. The truth was, they couldn't be more different in more ways that he cared to admit. Draco may have been an evil bastard from the very beginning, but it was no secret that Astoria's father still dabbled in the Dark Arts from time to time, something Draco wasn't particularly comfortable with. No glamour charms would ever make the outline of the dark mark disappear; no number of sleep draught potions would take away the nightmares of Voldemort brandishing the mark upon his forearm; no matter how hard he tried to redeem the Malfoy name, it would always be looked on in shame. Unfortunately, marrying Astoria Greengrass wasn't going to help, either, but Lucius would be damned if he didn't try.

As Astoria excused herself from the group, Draco stood up from his seat, grabbing her attention with a small wave. She made her way down the aisle with ease, stopping just as she got to Draco, and he greeted her with a kiss to her cheek before the two took their seats once more. Their greetings always seemed force; awkward. Yet the second they were situated in the public eye, she couldn't stop talking about how much fun they had. How _perfect_ they were for one another. If he didn't know any better, she was more or less a perfect fit for the likes of Lucius Malfoy rather than himself. His thoughts were broken, however, at the sound of a whining voice beside him.

"These chairs are terribly uncomfortable, you'd think they could snag better seating."

Followed by:

"Merlin's beard, this is a bloody memorial. Who shows up late for something like this?"

As well as:

"Draco, darling, why aren't you wearing the cologne I bought you for your birthday? You know I hate it when you wear that other stuff."

Draco, who had been relatively quiet since her arrival, finally rolled his eyes and turned to Astoria, a retort on the tip of his tongue. "Astoria, darling," he mimicked her sweetly, though his eyes narrowed slightly as he glared at her. "You know I just _hate it _when you're constantly comp-"

His comment was most fortunately cut off as the crowd started off into a sudden and thunderous round of applause. Draco turned his eyes to the stage, seeing that Minister Shacklebolt had finally stepped onto the platform. Draco reluctantly brought his hands up to clap as well.

"Welcome!" boomed the deep voice of the Minister, his arms thrown out as the crowd continued to clap. He looked nothing but pleased by the reactions he was receiving, letting the applause continue just awhile longer. Draco had stopped clapping after the first ten seconds.

The clapping had ceased, but not without the Minister's help as he waved his hands in a downward motion, signaling that he was ready to speak. "Welcome," Kingsley greeted once more, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "I assume you all know why we're here. Ten years ago from today, Hogwarts was bracing for the horrific battle when Harry Potter would take on He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named one final time." Draco suppressed the urge to roll his eyes again. The Minister continued speaking in that booming voice of his, but Draco was more than content to stop listening.

He, instead, continued to look around the crowd, his eyes coming to rest upon a group of orange, and no, it wasn't the Chudley Cannons. Draco's eyes narrowed slightly. He would recognize that hair anywhere.

Draco would like to think of himself as a changed man. With a solid career in the Ministry and no interest in the Dark Arts whatsoever, he could honestly say that one thing would never change; that sick, almost retching feeling he got in his stomach whenever he saw the Weasleys. There were just so many damn redheads in one area for his liking. Just because he had found it in his heart to tolerate Harry Potter for saving his life in the Room of Requirement, as well as pardoning the Malfoy name (at least Draco and Narcissa's) from the list of those involved in Death Eater activity during the Battle of Hogwarts, it didn't mean that he had to like Ron Weasley or any other Weasley for that matter. No one deserved to be that... Happy.

Sure he was an ass. He was a _Slytherin_. Some things would never change.

The two eldest of the Weasley clan sat side by side; Mr. Weasley seemed to be balding, the red of his hair being replaced by grey. Mrs. Weasley didn't seem to be having the same problem, though the red mass of hair sticking out of place under a most unfortunate looking evening hat seemed to be quite a problem for her. Draco smirked, though only slightly. She probably didn't even own a brush. Continuing his scan of the aisle he had deemed 'the Weasley aisle,' he noted that a lot of the Weasley brood had gone on to have broods of their own, the aisle littered with the occasional child as well. Fortunately, not all of the children seemed to carry the typical genes, as only few had red hair.

Eventually, it was a little girl bouncing upon the youngest Weasley's lap that had caught his attention. Honestly, he didn't care if Harry Potter had gone on to be the Boy-Who-Bred, but it seemed a bit unusual that he couldn't recollect any memory of the Prophet coming out with a story about marrying a Weasley, let alone having a child with one. Bloody Potter could make front page news for taking a shit, but not for making a child? His gaze continued to linger over the two; if he could remember correctly, young Ginevra Weasley was still playing for the Harpies. He knew for a fact that the number three team in the league couldn't possibly risk their star seeker to go off on maternity leave, let alone become a part-time mother. Perhaps Potter was a stay-at-home mummy while his wife brought home the bacon. The thought of that brought Draco more pleasure than it should have, and as the little girl in her lap bounced off and ran off to another uncle, he finally turned his gaze back to the stage, where Kingsley seemed to be wrapping up his speech.

* * *

"... with food and drinks following in the Great Hall. And without further ado, I present to you this evening's star speaker, savior of the wizarding world, and very close friend of mine - Harry James Potter!"

Ginny kept a straight face as she brought her hands up to clap, trying to ignore the hoots and hollers from the crowd as well as the rest of her family. It could have been worse, though. Luckily she had snagged a seat as far down the aisle from her mother as possible, but she could only imagine what her mother was thinking; 'What a perfect son-in-law he would have made ... He was always like a permanent member of the family to us ... I wonder what I can do to get Ginny to change her mind about him...'

Harry and Ginny's break-up had been a quiet one, to say the least, and that was mostly due to the fact that Harry had a talk with Prophet editor Dennis Creevey before news leaked out. Of course, that didn't stop other news posts to assume what they may, but who really believed anything that didn't come straight from the Prophet? (The Lovegoods don't count.)

It was Hermione who caught her attention, however, from her spot upon the stage next to Ron. In between clapping, Hermione looked around, quickly pointing at her own cheeks and smiling widely before clapping once more and shooting her a look. Ginny rolled her eyes at her friend, but smiled nonetheless.

Just seconds later, a flash went off in her peripheral vision and she turned to spot a photographer snapping pictures of the Weasley clan as they sat about, clapping for the Boy-Who-Lived. Hermione had saved her skin, once again and Ginny turned a genuine smile to her friend before the clapping started to cease.

Harry smiled charmingly at the hundreds seated in the crowd and Ginny couldn't help but wrinkle her nose slightly. There had been a time when Harry Potter couldn't stand attention; when he used to stumble through speeches, as if unsure of what to say. The worst part was, Ginny had been there through it all, doting after him, telling him it would be alright, that he would do fine and everyone would love him no matter what because he had _saved_ them... And now look at the prick, standing up on stage as if he _owned _it.

"Thank you, all of you, for coming out here today to celebrate the ten year anniversary of the death of Lord Voldemort, and the downfall of his Death Eaters. There are many, many people who helped contribute to war relief effort, and unfortunately, there are many still who couldn't make it, though are in our hearts nevertheless." Harry's gaze wandered over to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, shooting them a sad smile before traveling over to George, whom he gave a curt nod. Ginny could swear his eyes lingered over to her for just a second too long, but he had moved on with his speech before she even had a chance to think twice about it.

"To commemorate the last ten years, my friends and I, along with a select group working towards Wizarding betterment at the Ministry have put together a project to remember those loved and lost during the war as well as those who were lost at the hands of Voldemort and his Death Eaters over the last thirty-so years. To tell you more about the project, I have Hermione Weasley here with me to explain a bit more about the project, as well as to answer any questions you may have."

Harry stepped to the side, and Hermione stood from her seat, her pregnant belly jutting out from underneath her Ministry robes as she walked to the podium with the assistance of Ron. After assuring that Hermione wasn't going to topple forwards or some other catastrophic accident that Ron must have thought would have happened to her in the short walk it took for her to get to the podium, he finally took his seat. Hermione shot him a look that clearly said that he was going to get an earful from her hormones later. Ginny, who noticed the exchange of looks, hid a smirk.

Ron had always been rather protective of Hermione, and after their first child, his protective instinct only increased. Had Hermione not insisted that spoiling children wasn't always a good thing (she had told him to take a good look at Draco Malfoy), Rose and the unborn Hugo would have quickly became two of the most spoiled children in all of Britain. Truthfully, Ginny could see where her brother was coming from; after having to share everything growing up, he simply wanted the best for his child, and Hermione seemed to understand as well. Even though Ron and Hermione constantly bickered, only an idiot couldn't see that they were hopelessly in love with one another. It was one of the many reasons why she had broken up with Harry... even in their best days, Ginny wasn't sure she could honestly say she loved him. Or, at least, that she was_ in love _with him. Not anymore, anyway.

Ginny listened with half an ear as Hermione talked, though it was mostly droning on about stuff she had already heard about. Her eyes drifted over to Harry as her thoughts wandered elsewhere. He hadn't changed a bit over the years; he was still just as boyish as ever with his messy hair blowing in the breeze and his wiry glasses only slightly off-balance as they sat perched upon his nose. Ginny frowned slightly. She wanted to still be in love him, she really did. Merlin knew it would get her mother to shut up about it all - especially about her "clock" ticking away. Ginny cringed whenever her mother brought up having children, and if she had stuck with Harry, she was sure she would have popped out a kid by now, but was that what she really wanted? To be just another accessory for Harry? For their _children _to be just another chapter in his memoir?

The Harpies were the number three - soon to be number two, if Gwenog Jones had anything to say about it! - team in the league. A child would have required her to give up her full-time career as seeker to be a full-time mother, not to mention a full-time Mrs. Harry Potter. Her ten year old self would be cursing to high heavens at her for breaking up with_ Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived_. Ugh. She couldn't believe people were still using that.

It was then that Harry caught her gaze, and his eyes narrowed slightly, a look of concern written on his features. Ginny flushed after realizing she was staring before sending him a sheepish smile and turning her attention back to Hermione.

"The project should take an estimated six months to complete, and will include all of the names along the eastern wall in the Great Hall so all can see upon walking in. Family members of those who were lost are encouraged to write a line underneath the names of loved ones at absolutely no cost. All money for this project has been raised over the years just so we could complete something like this." Hermione smiled, turning a look to Harry. "It's actually a project that caught Mr. Potter's eye almost immediately after the war and saved up for this moment; all credit for the idea goes directly to Harry."

Everyone clapped once again, and Hermione took her seat beside Ron so Harry could take center stage one final time. "Thank you, Hermione, for thoroughly embarrassing me," he paused as the crowd chuckled. Ginny snorted, causing Bill beside her to look at her funny. "But I have to say, she's right. This is a project that I knew would be important for a lot of people, and it just didn't seem right to present the idea to the public any other time except for today. I stand before you, where I had stood ten years ago, thinking that I was going to die. I stand before you, as I stood ten years ago, facing the darkest wizard the world has ever seen. I stand before you, thanking each and every one of you for coming out here today to celebrate ten years of peace. I hope to see you all again in another ten years."

And with that, Harry stepped back from the podium and smiled, allowing everyone to clap for him once more.

* * *

"I personally found the Minister's speech to be quite daft." Draco inwardly sighed, trying to drown out Astoria and Daphne's gossip as he looked around for a familiar face he could pretend to make nice with. Unfortunately, Blaise had left him to fend for himself, insisting that he had to get back to Britain for a business meeting, though Draco mostly suspected that Blaise simply didn't want to listen to Astoria's gossip, either. The look Blaise sent him before apparating off was purely Slytherin.

Even if Draco were to find someone else he was the least bit interested in talking to, it didn't seem like he would be able to get away. Astoria was clinging to his arm with an iron-clad grip. Tonight, Draco was her accessory, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy it. His displeasure seemed to emit off of him in waves.

"And did you see Granger - I mean _Weasley's_- belly? Merlin, pregnancy was not good to her," Daphne scoffed, looking around to make sure no one was around to overhear her.

Astoria snorted, and Draco managed not to flinch at the sound. "I know!" her voice was high and shrill as she expressed her disgust. "I know we'll never look like that when we're pregnant," she said knowingly. Draco really did flinch that time, but it was his face that seemed to scrunch at the thought of Astoria bearing his child that really made him sick. Or any child, for that matter. He pitied the poor kid who had to be mothered by the likes of her. Unfortunately, that poor child would probably be his. She then turned to face Draco, laughing at the look on his face. "Stop joking around, our children will be adorable." If only she knew his look of terror wasn't a joke. "There's photo's of our mother, nine months pregnant and she doesn't look a day over four months," she boasted before turning back to her sister.

"Mm," Draco nodded down at her before looking away once more. Gross.

He continued to look around the room in mild disinterest, giving up on the search to find other company for the remainder of the time Astoria was keeping him here. Merlin only knew if he had left her for the evening, she would go running to his mother, and then he'd have to get an earful from Narcissa as well. Truthfully, he always suspected that his mother wasn't a fan of Astoria or any of the Greengrass family for that matter, but lately she had been quite pushy with him to give her grandchildren. _Oh_, there went his stomach, again. At least the two girls in his company had moved on to other topics. Well, sort of. At least they were off the topic of babies, but they weren't quite off the subject of upper-class hierarchy.

"- she might make a great deal of money playing Quidditch, but if you ask me, it doesn't matter what she wears, she'll always have the dirt beneath her nails."

Draco had seen this many times before; Astoria would often pinpoint a flaw about someone and turn it deadly. More often than not, her subjects were female, and more often than not, they were perfectly normal looking. She did this often, as if to trick him into thinking that he couldn't find anyone better than her. It never worked, but Draco sighed and followed her gaze to the little Weaslette, and for the second time that night, he found himself looking at her for longer than he should; for longer than he even _wanted_ to.

But for some reason, he couldn't quite make himself look away.

"What's the deal with her and Potter?" asked Astoria, her voice background as Draco watched her twirl around one of her many nieces. It was a rather odd thing to do, considering there was no music.

"I guess they've been separated for awhile now. I heard she choked after he asked her to marry him." Smart girl. "She's been seeing that other Gryffindor from Puddlemere - Oliver Wood? He can do much better than her, if you ask me."

Draco's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched her, or rather, watched her left ring finger. No ring. His eyes scanned the room, spotting Potter talking to Professor McGonagall. Harry lifted his champagne glass up to his lips. _No ring_. Draco turned back to Ginny one final time, his eyes boring over her curiously, but just as she turned to look his direction, Draco fixed his gaze to the ground and to a scuff on the stone floor of the Great Hall. When he looked back up, Ginny's attention was once again focused on the children running around in front of her, her smile as she laughed causing him to frown even further.

"Are you ready?" Draco finally huffed in irritation as he turned back to his girlfriend, his voice sounding rather out of place, seeing as he hadn't used it in quite some time. Astoria glared up at him, but said goodbye to her sister nevertheless, tugging him along as she practically stomped out of the Great Hall. He was done here; all these bloody Gryffindors were doing shit to his brain. Either that, or all that hair gel he'd put in to hold his hair in place was leaking toxins into his head.


	2. chapter two

**CHAPTER TWO**

* * *

"But Aunt Ginny, _why _can't you take us flying today?" Percy's oldest, Molly, looked up at Ginny, her blue eyes trying to plead with her while her lower lip quivered as she pouted. Her sister, Lucy, also looked up at her in earnest, and Ginny suppressed an eye roll.

"Because," she laughed, reaching down to take Lucy's hand in hers as they crossed the busy London street, Molly following dutifully by her side. "Your mum and dad weren't too happy with me the last time I took you guys on a broom." It was true, actually. The minute Molly and Lucy got home to tell Percy about the fantastic day they spent with their Aunt Ginny, Percy sent her a rather angry owl, complete with un-Percy-ish language and lots of words underlined. Flying was all Molly ever talked about since, and Ginny secretly suspected that she would go on to play Quidditch at Hogwarts, but she didn't dare tell that to her anal brother. "And anyway," she continued after they crossed the street, "I've got some errands to run before I have to get you back to my place for lunch."

Percy and Audrey usually asked Ginny to babysit their girls, especially when Ginny was in the off-season. Truthfully, Ginny didn't mind a bit; she adored all of her nieces and nephews, and she understood completely why Percy and Audrey asked her, seeing as she lived in a flat just two floors up from the family. Most mornings she would wake up to find Molly and Lucy at her door, smiling happily up at her. She could never say no to those faces.

Still, she felt bad for having to drag them around as she did her errands, but Ginny's trip to the Ministry was becoming more and more unavoidable as Quidditch season was approaching again soon. Every year, at the start of the new season, all Quidditch players had to update their player registry at the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Perhaps taking an eight year old and a five year old to the Ministry of Magic wasn't the best of ideas, but unfortunately, today was the only time this week she could get an appointment.

"Well, are we going to see Oliver again today?" perked up Lucy hopefully, looking up at her Aunt Ginny with wide eyes. It was rather adorable, really; Molly and Lucy absolutely adored Oliver, though she suspected that was mostly because he brought them ice cream whenever he stopped by to see them. Ginny smiled sweetly down at her, giving Lucy's hand a squeeze. "I think he has practice this evening. Maybe next week sometime," Ginny said, before stepping into a bright red phone box and ushering in the two girls behind her.

They took the rather unsettling ride to the Ministry like a champ, and Ginny suspected that Percy or Audrey had probably taken them to the Ministry before, though she didn't bother asking. They stayed dutifully by her side, holding her hand as they walked through the crowded lobby.

"Look!" Lucy pointed excitedly at a banner in the corner of the room, and Molly pointed happily as well, exclaiming "Uncle Harry!" as they passed under the banner. Harry winked at them as they walked along before going back to waving. Ginny studiously ignored the Potter poster the Ministry had placed around to support the Ten Year Memorial Wall, and Ginny tugged the two along a bit faster._Harry fucking Potter_. She couldn't get away from him.

The girls laughed and giggled all the way through the elevator ride, a chorus of "It tickles my tummy, it tickles my tummy!" could be heard beside Ginny every time the elevator shot off, up, or side to side. She smiled to herself. The elevator did leave a tickle in her tummy, and she reached down to run a hand over Lucy's head rather fondly as Molly tried to jump up and whack the paper airplanes flying around above their heads.

"Level Seven," came a voice from within the elevator walls, and it finally slowed to a stop. "Department of Magical Games and Sports."

The three girls stepped off the lift and into the room, buzzing with energy and a bit too messy for Ginny's liking, but it was people-free for the most part, and Ginny walked Molly and Lucy over to a set of chairs beside a fish tank.

"Okay," she sighed, pulling a coloring book out of her purse and handing it to Lucy, crouching down so she could be eye-level with the two girls as she spoke. "I shouldn't be gone any longer than twenty minutes. If you need me, ask the lady behind the desk to come and get me. No running off, no dirty tricks, no fighting with one another." Ginny turned Lucy's chin up to look at her, and she smirked slightly. "Got it, bug?"

Lucy smiled cheekily up at her aunt before flipping through the coloring book once more, and Ginny turned to Molly. "Keep an eye on your baby sister. Make good choices." Ginny hesitantly stood back up and walked over to the front desk to sign in for her appointment. Molly and Lucy were good kids; they were Percy's children, after all.

* * *

Draco straightened his robes as he walked onto the lift, ignoring the tingling in his stomach as it quickly shot off to move through the building. One hand gripped a clipboard that Wendy from front desk had shoved at him upon walking in, and he looked at it absentmindedly as he waited for the lift to drop him off to his usual office on the fifth floor. He had thought he had been the only one in the lift, save for the parchment airplanes flying around above his his head, but a giggling from behind him caused him to turn his head.

The last thing he had been suspecting was, well, _this_. He quirked a brow, looking around the lift before his eyes fell back on the two girls in the corner, who giggled again once they saw he had spotted them. He recognized them. Not at first, seeing as they hid their faces behind their mass of curly red hair everytime he glared at them, but it eventually clicked. They were the girls Ginny Weasley had been dancing with the other night. He narrowed his eyes at them, glaring at the pair rather sternly, but they only giggled once more.

"What are you two doing alone? The Ministry isn't a place for little girls to be running around," Draco drawled.

But the girls didn't answer his question. Or maybe they didn't even understand him; before he could even open his mouth to demand to know where their parents were, they had tossed a little blue ball at his feet. Was this some sort of game? A toy?

"What?" he finally huffed, lifting his foot to turn his glare to the small ball they had thrown at him. He had only registered the small**Property of WWW** written upon the item (confirming his suspicions that they were Weasleys, if their red hair didn't already) before the ball had blown up with a small _pop_, almost immediately emitting a smell that would have made dragon crap smell like roses. The girls laughed and plugged each other's noses, _ew_ing at one another as Draco stared horrified between the ball that had just sparked blue smoke, and the girls who continued to giggle in glee.

This had to be some sort of nightmare. Perhaps the Weasley family was out to get him for being such a prat after all these years. If he could take back all of the horrible things he had ever said and done to them, he would. Unfortunately, at this moment in time, he was stuck with the devil's spawn on a lift that seemed to never want to stop. Even the parchment airplanes flying above his head were putting around, slowing down with the weight of the smell and the blue smoke covering the small space around them.

It was then that Draco realized that if they didn't get off of this lift soon, they were going to pass out, or maybe worse. The stench had begun to become unbearable to the point he wasn't sure he could breathe, and despite the fact he had covered his mouth and nose with the crook of his arm, he wasn't sure his make-shift mask would help minutes from now. He had been a kid once; he knew his way around a dung bomb, but it seemed that George Weasley had done some tweaking to make them a bit stronger smelling, not to mention the amount of smoke that was flowing out of the small ball was rapid and continuous. Had they been enclosed in a larger space, the blue smoke would barely be visible and the stench nothing short of a simple nuisance - but in the small lift, it was nothing but a blue haze.

The girls were no longer giggling. In fact, one seemed to be coughing while the other was making odd whimpering noises. "Molly, I ca-a-n't breathe!"

Draco, who's arm had been covering his mouth and nose subconsciously as the smoke continued to pour, held his breath as he blindly reached forward to grab the girls, their coughs reminding him where they were. "Grab on to me," he commanded, crouching down as he grabbed one by the waist and finally felt the other wiggle closer to him as well. After insuring that both of them were secure in his arms, he kicked the smoky blue ball off into a crook in the corner before finding the front of the lift, pushing the emergency stop button vigorously with his elbow.

Not a second later, the smoke poured out of the open doors, and a voice overhead calmly spoke over their coughing. "Level Ten; Wizengamot Courtrooms." Not the floor he'd been hoping for, but it would do. The tenth floor was basically deserted, save for a couple that had been standing along the stone corridor, who looked at him sternly as the smoke poured out around them. Draco pointedly ignored them, and turned to set the girls on the floor.

The oldest hopped out of his arms right away, continuing to cough as she rubbed at her swollen eyes. The other, however, didn't budge. "Hey, kid," he lightly tugged at her waist as he knelt upon the stone floor. "You're okay, now." The arms around his neck seemed to tighten and the head on his shoulder seemed to burrow into his neck. Draco frowned, eyeing the older girl curiously. She simply shrugged at him.

Draco didn't like this, mostly because he didn't like children. They were rather whiny, too needy, sometimes bratty, and they obviously misbehaved, not to mention the curly haired red head wrapped around his neck was sniffling and coughing up a storm. He found it quite disgusting. At least, he _should _have. It was sort of upsetting, in a way; almost pitiful, even. Draco even felt a little ba-

Nope. He didn't feel bad. Two Weasleys in miniature just tried to kill him in what was sure to have been a suicide attack.

With a sigh, he wrapped his arm around her waist once more and stood back up to his full height, turning to look at the sister. "Well, come on, then. Let's go find your parents." He wasn't really sure who he was looking for exactly, and he didn't bother to ask. Anyone with a head of red hair and a second-hand robe would do, he supposed.

The older girl didn't say a word; she simply followed dutifully behind Draco as he turned a corner to look for another lift. It was the youngest who finally un-burrowed her head out of his neck and turned to look at him with big brown eyes. "Please don't tell our mummy and daddy! We came here with our Aunt Ginny." Oh, great. Even better. The lady-Weasel.

"Lucy!" the other one piped up suddenly, looking up at her sister sharply. She then turned to Draco, rather bossily for someone who had just tried to kill him, he thought. "Just take us back to the seventh floor and you'll never have to see us again."

Such words coming out of the mouth of a girl who didn't even look to be ten yet almost made Draco laugh aloud, but then he realized that he was dealing with a mini-terrorist, not a child. So instead, he glared down at her. "I ought to tell your mum and dad what you two did," Draco huffed, finally finding another lift and stepping on it. Before closing the doors, he turned to look down at the one he'd dubbed 'mini-Voldie'. "You don't have any more dung bombs, do you? I don't plan on dying in a lift today."

The girl named Lucy huddled closer to Draco, continuing to sniffle while the other sulked beside him. In few sharp tugs down, up, and around, the double doors finally slid open once more, and the monotonous voice overhead confirmed their destination of Level Seven: Magical Games and Sports.

He hated this level. Not because he hated sports or anything, but mostly because of the... disarray. It was always so unnecessarily messy and loud; distracting, compared to his quiet office on the fifth level.

And loud it was, indeed. For what seemed like the hundredth time that week, Draco Malfoy found himself staring at Ginny Weasley for longer than he should have liked. It didn't help that today he was getting quite a good view of her arse in a pair of muggle jeans that he should have found ridiculous, or that he was thinking rather un-Malfoy thoughts at the sound of her shouting at the poor receptionist.

"What do you _mean_ you don't know where they went?" huffed her voice angrily. "When a_ five year old_ tells you that she's going to use the loo, it doesn't _mean _she's going to use the loo!" Ginny angrily stomped her foot, though the receptionist behind the desk couldn't see that at all. Instead, her eyes were focused on the trio that had just walked through the lift, and she pointed a shaking finger at them.

Ginny turned her death glare to follow the receptionist's finger, her eyes landing first upon the children and finally to Draco, who suddenly felt the need to swallow the lump in his throat. That look would have put his mum's to shame, but it didn't last long; her eyes trailed over to the littlest, who was still burrowed around his neck, sniffling. Ginny's eyes lit up slightly at the sight, but narrowed once more as she saw just who had a hold of her, until finally she simply looked... not mad, just displeased, as if she had just eaten something she wasn't particularly fond of.

Lucy finally poked her head out from Draco's neck, and he tried not to shudder at the small wet mark she left on his deep emerald robes. Instead, he focused more on getting the child from point A (his arms) to point B (Ginny's arms) so he could get to point C (far the hell away from here). "As much as I'd love to stay and babysit your children, Weasley," came Draco's low drawl, "I actually have a job to get back to. Unlike yourself." He wasn't exactly sure why he had used the term 'your children' to describe the two. After all, they had told him that she was their aunt, but for some reason, Draco actually wanted to hear it out of her mouth.

That was odd. He didn't care for Weasley-Gossip-Hour the other night, why should he care now?

Ginny's glare turned deadly once more, and she shook her bangs out of her eyes before stomping over to grab her niece out of his arms. "And hullo to you, too, Malfoy. It's been awhile. You're looking well, you scrawny ferret."

Draco glared right back at her. "I wish I could say the same for you, Weasel. Unfortunately, you sort of speak for yourself."

"Prick."

"Git."

"Slimy rat."

"Hairy pillock."

"Prat."

"Potty-fuc-"

"Malfoy!" Ginny huffed, stopping him before he could finish, hugging Lucy closer as if holding her would protect her from his hurtful words. Draco merely smirked.

"You can't deny it."

"I'm not condoning it, either," she said sourly. But before he could comment, she rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Where were they?" Ginny's eyes suddenly widened. "Oh, Merlin, they weren't running around the offices, were they?" This woman had more facial expressions than Janus.

Draco turned to look at Lucy, who was still rubbing snot from her nose, to Molly, who was glaring at the ceiling. "I just found them riding the lift. They didn't know how to get back to where you were, so I took them." Draco shrugged, straightening his robes as if to avoid eye-contact with the three Weasleys in front of him. _They were causing a ruckus in the lifts! Throwing dung bombs! Trying to get innocent people killed! _Draco wasn't sure why all of this was failing to come out of his mouth at the moment, but he turned to look back up at them only to find Ginny looking mildly relieved, Lucy still sniffling, and Molly offering him a... smile? Yuck. Weasleys - why did they have to get so damn sentimental about everything? Whatever. "I've got to get back to work; just keep your nieces on a leash, Weasley."

Ginny eyed him curiously, looking as if she wanted to say more, but he turned and headed for the elevator before he could get a chance to listen to whatever sap she had to throw at him. He didn't need her thanks; after all, it was much more fun to watch her get all riled up.

He didn't just think that.

* * *

Malfoy was looking... Rather well, actually.

She didn't just think that.

Nor did she think about it on the way out of the Ministry, or all the way home, or while making the girls lunch, or even now as she was getting ready to sit in for the night. How was that even fair? Why did someone so evil look so delicious in a pair of dress robes? It was probably because his dress robes cost more than her paychecks.

Ginny sighed and pulled her hair back into a messy bun, curling herself up on the couch as she sat down with a fresh new packet to look at the rules and regulations for the new year. She was almost positive they were the same rules as last year, but Gwenog would know if the team had read the booklet or not - she was that anal about the rules. At the moment, she didn't seem to care all that much; she'd do just about anything to stop herself from thinking about her run-in with the blonde twat from earlier. It wasn't as if she'd ever see him again, anyway... _Penalties can be awarded to teams by the referee. A single Chaser may take the penalty by flying from the central circle towards the scoring area. Penalties can be awarded to teams by the referee. A single Chaser may take the penalty by flying from the central circle towards the scoring area. Penalties can be awarded to teams by the referee. A single Chaser ma-_ was she reading the same line over and over again?

"Fuck," Ginny muttered under her breath, closing her book shut as well as her eyes. Maybe she would call it a night. She didn't feel tired, nor was it very late; in fact - Ginny wrinkled her nose as she turned to look at her clock. It was only on the good side of 8:30. Perhaps she just needed a shower, or even a hot bath. Maybe that would clear her mind a bit. How was she supposed to get a wink of shut eye with all of this _crap _running through her mind? A knock at her door interrupted her mental planning, and she stood up from the couch with a sigh and a stretch, tossing her papers to the coffee table before walking over to answer the door.

"Oliver," she she greeted curiously, though not entirely surprised. "What are you doing here? Don't you have practice in the morning?"

Oliver stepped into her flat, and Ginny never failed to wonder how on earth he could do it without hitting his head on something. His 6 foot 8 inch stature always made her rather large flat look miniature, something she had never been very fond of. Not to mention he made her appear tiny as well, even at her rather average height of 5 foot 6. It wasn't just the height that seemed to be a problem - there was no doubt about it, Oliver was certifiably adorable. From his slight Scottish accent to his milk chocolate eyes that always seemed to lit up to the mood he was in, Oliver was a God. A Quidditch God, in fact, and if Ginny had to admit it to herself, they were the worst kinds. Ginny closed the door behind him, and folded her arms over her chest, staring up at him with a quirked brow.

Oliver laughed and bent down to place a kiss to her forehead. "What, am I _bothering _you? I don't have practice tomorrow, I figured I'd stop by and visit."

Ginny wrinkled her nose. She liked Oliver - she liked him quite a bit, actually, considering they had quite a lot in common (or rather, a lot of one thing in common) - but there were times when she felt like she had to force herself to keep up with him. Nevermind the fact that Puddlemere and the Harpies weren't exactly friendly on the playing field; Oliver never hesitated to point out the fact that Puddlemere was the number one team in the league ever since he began playing. Their relationship often made her wonder if he would sell her out if she ever gave him too much information about the team, and it seemed Gwenog was on the exact same page. But honestly, she couldn't tell you what this thing was with Oliver. They weren't technically together, no matter what the Prophet or anyone else liked to say, but they were far past the point of just being friends. Oliver never made a move to question the relationship, and Ginny had no qualms about it, either. Talking about things other than Quidditch was usually awkward and forced, anyway. "Sorry," she finally sighed, smiling up at him. "I was just going over the new rules and regulations for this year. I'm actually glad you stopped by, I don't think I could read for much longer."

He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it on the back of her couch before he spread himself upon it. "It's always the same as the year before, they really only make you read the rules and regulations if you're a greasy tosser playing for the Cannons or something; Merlin knows they need it." Ginny managed a small smile at that, and she slowly walked over to the couch to curl up beside him. Oliver smirked before leaning over to press his lips to her ear. "If you want, I can be your distraction from those nasty rules and regulations."

And how on earth could Ginny possibly refuse an offer such as that?

Only after a thorough snogging complete with fancy tongue-work, under-the-shirt feelskies, and lots of rolling did Ginny pull herself away from his lips, looking rather flushed as she sat back on the couch. "I have weight training at five in the morning, perhaps we should save it for another night," Ginny offered, squeezing his knee before pulling herself up into a standing position. Ginny liked to think of herself as a rather classy gal; far from being a prude, of course, but far from the vixen-like attitude her mum seemed to think she was doing whenever she told her she was going out on a date. She had to admit, however, that there was just something about letting a guy sleep over that really made her cringe. Psychologically speaking, Ginny guessed it had a lot to do about her situation growing up, having to share everything she owned - even her bed. To her, her bed was her sanctuary; something all her own. Waking up to find someone else beside her made her absolutely sick. It was something she hated about dating Harry; he never wanted to stay at Grimmauld place, he always wanted to come over to _hers_. Fortunately, Oliver actually preferred staying at his own place, though she suspected that had more to do with the fact that his place was bigger and nicer and he _knew_it. The bastard.

Oliver stood up at well, running a hand through his short hair to fix whatever mess had occurred during their brief entanglement. "Okay," he agreed," stepping towards her, a hint of mischief in his eyes as he leaned forward to briefly place his lips over hers once more. "Perhaps if you used that mouth of yours half as well as you played Quidditch, you wouldn't need to go to weight training in the morning."

Despite the fact that he was (probably, sort of) kidding, Ginny's eyes shot up to glare at him, a predatory look in her eyes at the comment. "Out. Now." She shoved his chest towards her door, though it was mostly useless seeing as he had a good hundred pounds on her. That actually made her even more pissed, and she stomped her foot. "Dammit, Oliver. Do you have to turn everything into a huge Quidditch competition all of the time?"

Oliver looked down at her, eyes wide and mouth open as if to apologize, but Ginny had perfected the Molly Weasley Look over the years, and she was pretty good at it. "Oh, nevermind. Just go, you ruined it."

Thankfully, Oliver grabbed his jacket and sent her one last apologetic look before turning and walking out of her flat, leaving Ginny with nothing but her rules and regulations book once more. Surprisingly, she didn't seem to mind.


	3. chapter three

**CHAPTER THREE**

* * *

The room was completely silent, save for the small _scratch-scratch-scratch _of his quill moving against the parchment, and that was exactly the way Draco liked it. He dipped his quill in ink one final time, finishing off the last of his statements for the month before finally setting it aside. After a quick fold and a stamp seal, he sat back in his chair and ran his hands over the perfectly untidy hair on his head. He felt he had done a rather satisfactory job for the day; he even felt he deserved to leave work a bit early, though it helped, of course, that he was the head of his department - his own boss. Draco smirked to himself, grabbing his wand and waving it above his desk, cleaning any mess and stacking any papers that had been out of place before standing and grabbing his dress robes off of the hanger beside him.

Oh, the things he could do with the extra three hours he had dubbed he was worthy of! The best part was, Astoria wouldn't be expecting him at her place until he 'got off work.' The possibilities were endless; he could go pick up a bite, perhaps grab a drink at the pub, maybe take a gander through some stores in Diagon All-

"Mr. Malfoy?" came a voice overhead, and Draco mentally crucio'd himself over and over again. "Your mum is outside, shall I send her in?" Of course it was too good to be true. Merlin forbid Draco finally get any time off, and his mother sniffs him out like a bloodthirsty leech.

He sighed. "Send her in. Thank you, Wendy."

Draco placed his dress robes back on the hanger and sat himself back down in his chair, attempting to put on a face other than disappointment by the time his mother walked in. He was successful in his attempt, and not fifteen seconds later, Narcissa Malfoy knocked upon the door before stepping inside. Draco felt a wave of magic present itself just as soon as his mother did; something he'd gotten used to after his twenty-seven years. Perhaps it was her walk, or maybe the way she carried herself like she _knew_ she was better than everyone else, she didn't have to rub it in or say it aloud. She looked different, somehow, but Draco couldn't exactly put his finger on it. He immediately stood up from his chair once more, stepping around the desk to greet his mother. Narcissa eyed him for a moment, finally closing the distance between herself and her son after it appeared he had passed whatever invisible test she had just given him. "I hope I didn't disturb you from your work," she leaned in, placing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Though by the looks of it, it doesn't appear that I have."

He resisted the urge to groan. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this surprise visit?" he asked, ignoring her comment. He motioned for her to take a seat before he rounded his desk once more to sit in his chair. Narcissa had either ignored the gesture, or simply wasn't planning on staying very long; he wasn't exactly sure yet, though he found himself hoping it was the latter. Draco looked up, eyeing her curiously from where she stood in the middle of his room. "Mother?"

Her grey eyes looked away from his own, instead moving to stare at a bookcase along the wall of his office. It was then that Draco realized something really was wrong.

"What does _Quidditch Through the Ages: Volume 2_ have to do with Magical Law, Draco?" she asked, her eyes still rapidly scanning the books. The corner of his lip twitched, though only slightly.

Yes, Magical Law - _Head_ of Magical Law, in fact. It sounded so official, didn't it? It was far enough away from the Auror offices, far enough away from Potter and his buffoons that Draco didn't have to work hand-in-hand with them, nor did he have to deal with dirtying his hands. It was as goody Gryffindor as he could get, while still keeping true to his Slytherin routes. Of course, it wasn't easy getting in good graces with the Ministry again. It was an uphill battle trying to prove he wasn't going to wipe out the Ministry from the inside, and it was really only after plenty of (rather un-Malfoy-like) heartfelt apologies and another clean sweep of the Malfoy Estate that people started to realize he really was the best man for the job. And why shouldn't he be? He hated people enough that controlling them came rather easy to him.

"Just a bit of light reading is all," he sat back in his chair, slouching slightly as his bottom slid against the leather. "You didn't come to examine my bookshelves, did you?" Draco asked, trying to get her to spit out whatever it was she was going to say; whatever it was that couldn't seem to wait until the next week, when he was scheduled to attend dinner at the Manor with Astoria.

Narcissa fingered the spine of a book, her fingernails running lightly over the gold stitching of the letters before she sighed and turned to look at him again. "I came to tell you that - Oh, I didn't want to bother you at work," she silently cursed herself, running a hand over her forehead before continuing. "I came to tell you that your father is sick." And something about the way she said it led Draco to believe that it wasn't just a case of the Dragon Pox.

Silence washed over the room as Draco watched his mother stand beside his bookcase, her knuckles turning white as she grasped the wood. He finally realized why she looked so different to him all of a sudden - she looked tired, as if she hadn't gotten proper sleep in a good week or so, and the wrinkles along her mouth and forehead looked deeper than usual. She looked _old_. Or older than usual, of course.

"Draco, say something," Narcissa finally snapped at him, though it wasn't very forceful, nor was it laced with malice.

He blinked, then blinked once more as he shook his head. What was he supposed to say? His mother had come to tell him that his father was dying, and for some reason, the only thing running through his mind was how he was going to have to tell Astoria at some point and it wasn't going to be fun. "What can I do?" he asked finally, licking his lips. What could he do? What did he have to do? What did he _need_ to do?

Narcissa frowned, but didn't say whatever she had wanted to throw his way. "You don't have to do anything, you know your father." After another awkward moment of silence, she finally sighed. His mother never sighed this much. "I just thought you should know, he still expects you over for dinner next week. I have to go pick up some things for him in Diagon Alley, so I should be going." She eyed him one last time, and Draco could have swore he saw a hint of sadness in her eye as she did, but it was gone before he even had the chance to even think it over. She turned around to walk briskly towards the door, and Draco didn't bother standing.

"I expect to see your hair looking considerably less unkempt the next time I see you," she told him, handle over the door knob as she yanked it open. "And Draco?" she asked without turning around. "Don't slouch. It makes you look unprofessional." Then just like that, she was gone.

Draco slouched even farther in his chair, practically disappearing under his desk as he let out an extra-long sigh. Leave it up to his family to turn a good day into a terrible one.

* * *

_I know we're not on the best of terms, but Teddy misses you - misses us._  
_Perhaps a get-together is in order. Are you free this evening?  
_Harry

The owl had come a good three hours ago, but Ginny had yet to respond. She knew she should have responded right away to tell him that she would, of course, meet up with Harry and Teddy and the fact that she hadn't sent an owl back right away made her feel like the world's most awful human being. Why couldn't she answer him? Why did she put her personal issues with Harry over the desires of a child?

Ginny rubbed her eyes tiredly as she sat at her kitchen table, blank parchment in front of her. She missed Teddy too, of course. She watched him grow up; watched him develop into the bright young wizard he was today; watched him become an avid reader, like his father; watched him morph, like his mother. Ginny sighed, pushing her bangs off her forehead, almost exasperatedly. Then, she finally picked up her quill to write back.

_Of course. I miss Teddy. Meet me at that muggle zoo in London in an hour?_  
Ginny

It was short, but to the point, and within minutes of sending an owl back, she had received an answer from Harry that simply said two words: _Thank you_.

Ginny stood up from her kitchen chair she had been sitting in for a good hour and replaced her house slippers with a pair of slip-ons, and after a quick examination of her hair in the mirror, she grabbed her purse and headed out the door. The zoo wasn't a very long walk from her flat, especially since her building was technically located within muggle London despite the fact the majority of it's inhabitants were witches or wizards. Diagon Alley was just around the corner, in fact, making it easily accessible for work and shopping.

But this evening, Ginny was headed away from the comfortable walls of Diagon Alley, to meet up with her ex-boyfriend and his godson. "_Fuck_," Ginny cursed aloud, not realizing it until she earned a rather sharp stare from an old lady walking her dog as she passed her. Ginny didn't bother getting embarrassed; she was much too concerned with the fact that the next few hours were going to be hell. Unless Harry somehow miraculously managed to stay rather civil. Unless _she _somehow miraculously managed to stay civil. Something about Harry made her want to just... yell. A lot.

If she had to be honest with herself, the break-up was as much her fault as it was his own. If she had just been honest with him from the start. If she had only told him what was on her mind. Before she knew it, their Hogwarts romance had blossomed into something more, and her childhood crush had somehow become the love of her life. But then three years of dating turned into several long years, and several turned into a decade.

She had dated Harry Potter for almost ten whole years. She'd watched the Boy-Who-Lived become the Boy-Who-Saved-The-Wizarding-World. She watched him go through Auror training after turning down the position of Minister of Magic. She'd stuck around for almost ten birthdays, ten Christmases, ten anniversaries, ten, ten, ten.

And it was around that time that it finally hit her; she wasn't in love with Harry Potter any more. Believe it or not, it took her almost_fifteen_ whole years before she figured that one out. In the beginning, her girlish crush began after one look at him at King's Cross Station. At age eleven, she had only fallen for him even more when he saved her from the chamber and Tom Riddle's possession. By age twelve, Harry had obtained a _Firebolt _- and who didn't look strapping whilst riding a Firebolt? Thirteen had come and gone, and she had still secretly lusted after him as she watched him become the youngest Tri-Wizard Champion ever, and she could only describe his battle scars after a run-in with a Hungarian Horntail as delicious. Fourteen, it seemed, was the year Harry finally noticed her as more than just 'Ron's little sister'; at least, she thought so.

Age fifteen was her year; _the_ year. He had always been so untouchable before, or so it seemed like. There were so many people that had his attention; Ron and Hermione had come first, obviously, and then there was always Cho Chang, and then his brief obsession with Malfoy... Voldemort, Dumbledore, Sirius... All of these people, good or bad, had always come first string, but all Ginny could do was be glad that at least she even _had _a string to begin with.

Love, or something like it, had always been a stronger emotion within her than it had been with Harry. Ginny would look back on it as being young and naive as she always tried to reason with herself that the only reason Harry didn't share his emotions was that he was just a naturally guarded person. He was never really all that guarded, though, was he? She could recall countless occasions when she had heard things through the grapevine about Harry that he didn't even bother telling her himself.

But the worst, the _absolute worst_ thing about Ginny's naivety was that she put up with it. She put up with the fact that he was never honest with her, she put up with his constant moodiness, she put up with his bullshit fame and his bullshit lifestyle; it was true, what she had claimed before - if she had to describe what she was feeling the last few years she was with Harry, she could only describe it as being just a chapter in his memoir. At least it was a long chapter. In the end, the bad days just outweighed the good days.

Of course, she had never meant for their relationship to end badly. She hadn't meant to build up the inevitable from the start, making it almost physically impossible to want to be around him. After all, it wasn't like she could ever avoid him. They were stuck together for life, if Molly Weasley had anything to say about it, and Molly Weasley _always_ had something to say about everything.

Mind reeling as almost every scenario ran around in her head, Ginny barely realized she was leaning upon the fence surrounding the pool of the sea otters. She ran her hands up over her face, tugging her hair back as she waited for the duo to show up. She was happy that she would be seeing Teddy, she couldn't deny it. The thought of seeing his usual, bubbly face even brought a smile to her own lips. He was a lot like Tonks, in many ways, and Ginny had always adored Tonks to bits and pieces.

She turned her head at the sound of voices coming up the small hill that led down off to the entrances, and she smiled brightly as a head of messy black hair popped up just beyond the hill - one that was attached to a smaller body. When his eyes caught her own, he happily broke into a sprint, reaching her open arms in seconds. "Aunt Ginny!" She crouched, resting her chin lightly upon his head (that turned bright red just as he wrapped his arms around her) and she gave him a hug.

"'Lo, love," she placed a kiss upon his forehead before standing back up once more, allowing the boy to place his hand in hers. "Where's Uncle Harry?"

"I beat him all the way up the hill!" he exclaimed happily, bouncing beside her as the duo began walking to find dear 'Uncle Harry'. "I beat him all the way up the hill and he didn't even let me win this time 'cos he's walking with a limp."

Ginny turned her eyes down at the boy questioningly, but he simply pointed down the hill to the man in question. Sure enough, Harry had quite a large limp to his walk, and Ginny had to roll her eyes. He would look quite pathetic if it weren't for the fact that she was sure he suffering from some work-related injury. She knew for a fact Molly doted over Ron and Harry just as much as she used to worry over Charlie and his dragons. "Well, how about we meet him down there, then?" she turned back to Teddy, who still sported her red hair and Harry's green eyes. She suppressed a shudder. She knew he couldn't control it quite yet, but he looked too much like a Potter-Weasley offspring at the moment than she'd care to admit. Ginny turned back to look down at Harry, who was bent over as he readjusted whatever battle wound was hidden beneath his sock before he finally stood back up and caught her eye. She smiled crookedly and raised a hand in greeting before Teddy finally began to tug her down the hill.

Just as soon as the three were reunited at the bottom, Teddy let go of Ginny's hand and proceeded to run straight towards a small exhibit that housed two small tigers, and Ginny and Harry were left standing, staring at his retreat.

Ginny mentally sighed, but turned to Harry, who rotated his head to look at her just as she had. In an attempt to skip over any awkward greetings, she shot a pointed look at his leg before moving the look back up to him. "What'd you do this time, Harry?"

She watched as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink, and he brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. Typical, awkward Harry. "Well, Ron's been taking more days off lately to help Hermione get ready for Hugo, so I've been doing a lot of solo work..." Ginny had a feeling she knew where this was going, but she folded her arms over her chest, her silence urging him to continue. Harry sighed and shoved both of his hands into his pockets. "I guess I'm just not as, er, _sprightly_as I was back in my Hogwarts days. I took a rather nasty fall down a flight of stairs." He lifted his pant leg to show her a small ankle brace, and Ginny wrinkled her nose slightly. "It's not broken, but the sprain was rather garish looking."

Ginny simply shook her head before sending him a small smile. "Who knew you'd meet your end with a flight of stairs, Potter." Harry shot her a look of disgust, but she simply smirked and continued on. "If the Dark Lord couldn't slow you down, something had to."

The smallest of quirks quivered at the corner of his lips, but he turned to look back down as he straightened his pant leg back out. "I'm fine. We better go find Teddy before he gets himself into the lion's cage. I have a feeling Andromeda wouldn't be too happy with me if that happened."

As the trio moved along the zoo, it seemed Ginny didn't have much to worry about when it came to Harry. It was as though Teddy's presence served as a barrier of any evil that Ginny assumed would arise. Most of the conversations had to do with Teddy, though they usually moved to other topics such as Quidditch and what it was like to chase around the bad guys. Teddy then proceeded to tell them that he was going to be a Quidditch playing Auror when he grew up.

"When's your first game, Gin?" Harry asked as he fiddled through the coins in his pocket, finally finding a muggle coin to hand to Teddy so he could feed the fish.

"We play the Wasps next Thursday," she sighed as she took a seat on a bench. "Then the week after that, we play Puddlemere." Truth was, she was really quite nervous about that match. Gwenog seemed to think highly enough of her team, but with the way Oliver spoke about his new seeker made Ginny rather sick to her stomach. It was nothing but a match, nothing more considering it was still too early in the season to be playing for any titles, but if she had to be honest, she wanted nothing more than to prove that the Harpies could whoop Puddlemere's arse. She was still rather peeved at Oliver for sending her an owl, asking if she'd read the lengthy article about him in the _Prophet_. Stupid git.

Harry seemed to understand why she seemed nervous, though the look in his eye told her she wasn't going to like what he had to say. "What? You're afraid your boyfriend's team is going to beat you this year, just like they do every year?" Ginny wrinkled her nose and shot him a look, but bit her lip to keep her nasty retort from spilling.

"We _can _beat them this year," she finally spit out between a clenched jaw. "We have to." Otherwise she'd never live it down, and then she would never play Quidditch again because she would be guilty of murdering Oliver Wood. Azkaban didn't really suit her, but at least there would be bloodshed. She shook the thought out of her mind and turned back to Harry. "Hostile, much? You don't want to see the Harpies win?"

Harry rolled his eyes, but didn't get the chance to reply as Teddy came bounding back over.

They moved along through the zoo, to the lion cages, to the bird exhibits, to the elephant cages, and even to see the gorillas. Of course, Harry had saved his personal favorite for last - the reptile house.

"The first time I ever went to the zoo, I accidentally made the glass disappear on the boa constrictor's cage," Harry spoke quietly as he bent down beside Teddy, the three watching the snake coil around the tree branches. Ginny couldn't help but smile as she listened to him speak, remembering how Harry had taken her here on one of their first dates, where he told her the exact same story. Though Teddy seemed to be a great deal more fascinated by it, asking if Harry could do it again, if he could still talk to snakes, if he could take a snake home for grandma...

Harry grinned mischievously up at Ginny, and she shook her head and laughed. "I want nothing to do with this, you started it." He stood up and ruffled Teddy's hair. "When you're older, you can own however many snakes you want," Harry tugged at his shoulder. "But for now, let's go get some dinner before I take you back to grandma. How about you ask if Aunt Ginny wants to join us."

Ginny shot Harry a curious look, but didn't comment as Teddy turned his green eyes up to hers. "Do you want to go get dinner with us?"

She hesitated, but only for a moment before finally nodding. "Alright, dinner sounds good. But only if Uncle Harry is treating."

* * *

"So you haven't told Astoria, yet." It wasn't a question. Blaise stared at Draco rather pointedly across the small table they occupied at the pub of the Leaky Cauldron. Draco lifted his drink to his lips, not bothering to answer his non-question, though he stared right back at him. Blaise groaned and shook his head. "Why not? You're going to have to tell her sometime. Whether you like her or not, you are engaged to the bint."

Oh, right, he was engaged. He forgot all about his rather forced proposal during last weekend's dinner at the Manor. His father looked absolutely sick with pride, and his mother managed to not throw her fine crystal against a wall, never mind the fact that she had practically put him up to it. _Your father would want to see you well off with your head on your shoulders before he passes_.

"Why does it matter?" Draco finally huffed, slamming his glass back on the table. "She's getting what she's always wanted out of it: the infamous Malfoy vault at Gringotts," he rolled his eyes.

There was silence at the table as the two continued to drink, and finally, Blaise spoke once more. "But what are you getting out of it?" Draco stayed stubbornly silent as he glared into his glass until it filled with the amber liquid once more. "Fine. You don't want to talk about your fiance, I get it. How about we talk about your father." Still, Draco didn't say a word. "Nothing? Alright." Blaise tipped the last of his ale into his mouth before finding a few knuts and sickles in his pockets to lie on the counter. "I've got a meeting tomorrow morning, anyway. I wouldn't want to hear you drone on and on about your depressing life," he said with a smirk, standing up to brush whatever invisible dust had gathered on his robes.

He hesitated, just before turning however, causing Draco to turn his gaze upon his friend. "Seriously though. If you want to talk..." Draco managed a nod, and Blaise finally turned to go, leaving him alone with his thoughts. That was never a very good idea.

Astoria had been so absolutely delighted by his proposal, that she didn't even finish her dinner so she could go off an owl all of her friends and family. To make matters worse, she had stayed over almost every night since, and while most would be thrilled at the thought of getting laid every night, Draco was finding it to be more of a job than a perk. The crazy loon had even gone as far as giving him a black eye after sneaking into his flat and tackling him from behind. Needless to say, that was where he drew the line.

However, Draco wasn't planning on going home very early tonight. In fact, tonight was a bit of a celebration; after putting up hours and hours of protective wards and charms on his flat to make sure Astoria couldn't just apparate and disapparate as she pleased, he had decided that tonight was a good night for the pub. If he was lucky enough, perhaps he wouldn't have to listen to Astoria knocking all night, either. He often thought how easy it would be to just find another drunk broad running around to take home for the night..._Thought_, being the key word. Draco Malfoy was a great many things, but he wasn't about to go on and cheat on his fiance, no matter how big of a twat he thought her to be. He inwardly sighed. Oh, how he was going to miss having normal sex.

Draco was about to move from his spot at the table to a place at the bar when the familiar bell at the door caused him to turn his head in habit. His eyes narrowed despite his vision that was becoming slightly more blurred as his drinks kept refilling, and his eyes followed the figure who had just walked in right to the empty bar stool he had been previously eyeing. Fuckin' Ginny Weasley.

She was alone, which Draco didn't find the least bit surprising considering how obnoxious she was, and while the old Draco Malfoy might have stumbled over to rub it in her face, he realized through his drunken stupor that she didn't exactly look very good at the moment. The last few times he had seen her, she had at least made an effort to dress like a classy human being, but tonight, she wore a tiny jacket over an old Gryffindor alum shirt. Paired with ripped jeans and a muggle baseball cap, her attire made her look anything but classy. It wasn't just her choice of clothing, though. When she sat down, she ordered a firewhiskey; not a water, not a butterbeer, not even a simple ale. Firewhiskey: the drink of choice for those getting drunk with a purpose. He looked into his own glass, which seemed to trigger it to refill once again.

So what if Weasley's life sucked so bad that she had to get all dressed up and go to the pub to get trashed?

And why the hell did he even care? Why would he sit and try to analyze why a Weasley would do anything that they did? They were all crazy, the lot of them. He turned away to stare off at other people and other things, but even as he watched two older witches arguing over work and another witch 'accidentally' spilling their drink on the other, Draco found his gaze going back over to Weasley, only to spot she was no longer alone.

It seemed that Astoria and Daphne's gossip held some truth to the rumors about Ginny Weasley and Oliver Wood. The cap that she had been wearing was now being worn by Mr. Wood himself, and his arm was resting snuggly upon her shoulder as he leaned against her. For some unexplained reason, Draco found himself wanting to curse it off his body, but that was simply because he had always hated the twat. He might have been a damn good Quidditch player, but he was far too cocky for his own good. Not even Draco talked about himself that much. Not even _Astoria _talked about herself that much.

Weasley seemed to be working on another round of drinks, while Wood looked perfectly comfortable chatting up the lady bartender, who sent not-so-subtle death glares Weasley's way every so often. The scene before him was marvelously entertaining, to say the least. It made him entirely too pleased that Weasley was suffering through crappier relationships than he was; after all, she had to hate her life when her last two lovers were Saint Potter and Prettier-Than-A-Girl Oliver Woo -

Draco suddenly scowled into his drink without even realizing it. With the bartender off treating another group down the bar, Weasley and her boy-toy sat fully embraced in a lip-lock, though it looked rather sloppy from where he sat. How Weasley had managed to get drunk that fast didn't cease to amaze him, but their messy groping was cut short as Weasley pushed the taller boy back and stood up, taking her purse with her. Was she leaving? So soon? It was just getting good, nevermind the fact that he was finding entertainment in a pair of Gryffindors. By the looks of it, she wasn't too pleased with her Quidditch boyfriend. Hands waving wildly by her sides, he only caught pieces of whatever she was yelling about, including 'game tomorrow' and 'sabotage' and 'fuck, fuck, fuck' before she finally stomped out of the bar.

His drunken brain barely registered that he liked the way she stomped about all the time, but it was gone from his thought process just as fast as it had come. He didn't care. Why should he care? Did he already ask himself that question? Draco didn't really know how long he sat pondering his life and the people surrounding him, but the last thing he remembered before checking his watch and apparating home was an unexplained feeling of hatred directed toward the Quidditch player at the bar, who seemed to be rather content with himself as he groped the off-duty bartender sitting in his lap.


End file.
